


Grieving in Pink

by Kharina



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-18 12:38:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10617087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kharina/pseuds/Kharina
Summary: In just a few days, Nymphadora Lupin loses a husband and regains a father, while her mother Andromeda is forced to re-evaluate her relationship with her sister. What will the post-war period hold for the Tonks family? Will they move forward or hold on to the past? An AU fic because I simply love the Tonks family and wanted a few more of them to survive.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: If I was JK Rowling the writing of this would be a lot better: I don't own Harry Potter and haven't written this to make any profit.
> 
> A/N: This fic is really just a bit of wish fulfilment, because Nymphadora (sorry, Tonks!) and Ted Tonks are some of my favourite characters, so I wrote an AU where they manage to survive to explore how they might and what might happen after that. Sharing it just in case anyone else would also enjoy seeing more Tonks after the war. Hope you enjoy, and feel free to leave a comment!

“Remus!” Nymphadora Lupin screamed, charging towards the spot where she'd seen her husband fall, ducking a jet of red light from Rowle, who she'd been duelling. She fell to her knees beside him, heedless of all else around her, and desperately felt for a heart beat, a pulse. Nothing. 

“Remus, wake up! Enervate!” She pointed her wand at him, but the spell did nothing. “Remus,” she repeated, beginning to sob as she lifted his body to hold him, burying her head in his warm shoulder. “Please. Wake up,” she whispered, her voice half-stifled by tears, knowing it was useless. She could feel the slight roughness of his cheek against hers, and she breathed in his scent, savouring it, trying to deny what she knew was true. “Wake up, please. I love you. Please.” A part of her knew it was unwise in the midst of a battle, but all she could do was hold him, try to savour these few moments while he was still warm, still so close to life, hope desperately that she'd been wrong. She lifted her wand again, hopelessly. “Enervate,” she whispered again.

“Aww, is the little baby missing her filthy werewolf?” Came a high-pitched, horribly nasal sing-song voice. 

Nymphadora's heart sank. She knew that voice. She hadn't the energy to fight her again, but she wouldn't give Bellatrix the satisfaction of killing her from behind, without at least trying to stand up to her. Reluctantly, she lowered Remus' body to the ground, and began to turn to face her aunt. As she did so, her wand flew out of her hand.

Bellatrix was smiling insanely as she caught Nymphadora's wand in her free hand. “You filthy half-blood brat,” she spat. “Do you have any idea what you have done by lowering yourself to breed with that filth? You're even worse than your mother, you little slut.”

“Don't insult my mother,” Nymphadora told her firmly.

“Or what?” Bellatrix said tauntingly. “Crucio!”

The pain was indescribable. Nymphadora fell instantly to the ground, but the pain was such that she didn't even feel her body hit the hard stone flags. She screamed, unable to help it, but knowing no-one would come to her rescue. Everyone was too busy fighting. Who would be able to spare the time? She wasn't sure if she minded so much. At least she would join Remus... but Teddy... oh, god, Teddy....

Belatedly, Nymphadora realised Bellatrix had lifted the curse. “Aww, did that hurt?” she mocked.

“What do you think?” Nymphadora snapped back, wracking her brains for a good retort. “Why so angry, Auntie? Did I get you into trouble with your precious Voldemort? And you think I have bad taste in men?” It felt good to finally be able to say the name again, after all these months of hiding.

She saw with some satisfaction that her shot had hit home. “You dare speak his name, you filthy stain on my family tree? Crucio!”

Nymphadora knew she would welcome it when Bellatrix killed her. She was thankful, at least, that it was the middle of a battle and her aunt must have limited time to spend on her favourite Unforgivable Curse. Dimly, Nymphadora heard Bellatrix's cackling voice over the sound of her own screams. 

“Don't worry, little baby, you'll join that animal you call a husband and your filthy Mudblood father so-”

Suddenly, the pain was gone, but all Nymphadora could do was lie there and breathe. Breathe. Through the after-effect of the curse, she could hear a voice, and a hand shaking her.

“Nymphadora! Nymphadora, talk to me!” 

Nymphadora opened her eyes. Only one person ever called her that name. “Mum?” 

Gradually, Andromeda's worried face came into focus. “Quickly, love, get up, as soon as you can,” she said urgently. “We can't stay here, we have to hide.”

“I can't hide,” Nymphadora said, wincing at the pain it cost her to move her lips. “I came to fight.”

Andromeda arched one eyebrow.

“You look like Mrs Malfoy when you do that,” Nymphadora muttered rebelliously.

“You are in no condition to fight right now,” Andromeda said with an air of finality, ignoring her comment. “All you would do is get yourself killed. You are coming with me, now.”

Nymphadora struggled to her feet. There was no arguing with that tone of voice. Her eyes came to rest on Remus, and fresh tears came to them as his body floated into the air, guided by her mother's  
Levitation spell, and her wand was pushed back into her hand. 

“I'm so sorry, Nymphadora. He was a good man.”

Nymphadora tore her eyes away, unable to bear looking at him anymore, and her eyes fell on Bellatrix, crumpled up against the nearest wall.

“Is she dead?” she asked, half-dreading the answer.

“Stunned, I've never cast Avada Kedavra before and I didn't want to try and use anything that might go wrong. I can't outduel her, but I could take her by surprise. Now hurry, we must hide.”

Dumbly, Nymphadora followed her mother along the corridor, her mother turning away suddenly to slip behind a tapestry, into what appeared to be a secret short-cut. The narrow hallway was dusty and covered in spiders' webs. “Where's Teddy?” Nymphadora asked suddenly. “You were supposed to look after him.”

“I left him with your grandmother,” Andromeda whispered.

“But she's a Muggle!” Nymphadora said. “She can't protect him.”

“He's not in the middle of a war, he doesn't need protecting, not yet, anyway. And if He Who Must Not Be Named wins this war, I wouldn't be able to protect him either. Besides, no-one in the wizarding world knows where she lives and there are protective charms all round the place, your Dad made sure of that.” 

Andromeda's voice caught on her husband's name, and Nymphadora felt guilty that the first thing that that reminded her of was her own grief for Remus. 

“You needed me more. I can't lose you, Nymphadora. Not you too.” Andromeda stopped, allowing Remus' body to float gently down to the ground once more. “Come this side of me,” she said gently, indicating the space next to the wall.

Nymphadora obeyed, watching her mother stand in front of her and begin to cast the protective enchantments that would make them invisible and very difficult to hear. “You could start calling him Vol-”

“Be quiet! How do you know the Taboo isn't still in place?”

“He's kind of busy, whether it's still there or not,”

“Just don't say the name.”

“Fine. You could at least call him all the names Auntie Liz and Elsa invented for him. Like Noseless Git,” Nymphadora said, but without her usual bubbly humour. She could feel herself starting to sob again.

Her mother dropped to her knees and hugged her tightly.

“It feels like-” Nymphadora choked.

“Like the world should be ending, exploding right in front of your eyes. Like half your body is missing,” Andromeda finished for her. “I know.”

Nymphadora reached for Remus' body, pulling his head to rest in her lap, stroking his thinning hair away from his forehead. “I love you, Mum,” she said softly.

Andromeda kissed the top of her daughters' head. “I love you, too.”


	2. Chapter 2

Andromeda wasn't sure how long she sat there, holding her daughter tightly to her, listening to the sounds of the battle, Voldemort's message calling for the Boy Who Lived to give himself up, then the comparative quiet of people scurrying through the castle, gathering up the dead, followed by the sounds of intense battle again. Eventually, though, she heard loud cheering, and stirred.

“Stay here, Nymphadora, don't make a sound, and don't do anything stupid.”

“I should have fought,” Nymphadora said suddenly in response, raising her gaze from Remus for the first time in hours. “I should never have let you make me sit here like a coward. What if the Death Eaters have won?”

Andromeda shook her head. “I don't think so. It doesn't sound like their sort of cheering. No arguments, Nymphadora. Your baby needs you, and in case I am wrong you need to stay alive to protect him and your grandmother, who no doubt would die in an attempt to protect him should they find her.”

Luckily, Nymphadora didn't protest. Andromeda walked back down the corridor, trying not to let her memories completely derail her. She and Ted had hidden here, during their Hogwarts days, for whispered conversations and heated kisses. Reaching the end of the corridor, she cautiously drew the tapestry back, and crept out, sticking close to the wall, hoping that the Disillusionment Charm she had cast on herself would shield her, for a while.

Eventually, she came to the top of the staircase, overlooking the Great Hall, to see a crush of students, staff, order members, all seemingly engaged in one massive hug. Definitely not a Death Eater celebration, then, but Andromeda still checked carefully to see that none of them were left alive and free, and saw three blond heads peeping out from behind a pillar on the opposite staircase. Bloody hell, if a meteorite hit the Earth tomorrow and killed everyone on it, the Malfoys would somehow survive and stay scot free. How the hell did they do it? Was it genetic? 

Andromeda returned her attention to the scene below her, to notice the pile of people beginning to break up, and three teenagers stagger out of the centre, one of whom she recognised as Harry Potter. She shifted her gaze across the floor to see the body of Voldemort, lying, ironically, in a pool of dawn sunlight. They had won, she realised. They had won, and she had kept her daughter safe.

There was relief, but no euphoria, not like that of the milling crowd below. They had won, but too late for Remus. Too late for her darling Ted. The dam she had built up inside herself, made of the desperate desire to keep the rest of her family safe, broke and the grief came flooding through, disrupting her magic and her muscles, so that the Disillusionment Charm faded and she sank down onto the step, in floods of tears.

“Miss- Mrs Tonks?” 

Andromeda turned towards the genial voice, to recognise her old Head of House. “Professor Slughorn,” she murmured weakly. “It's been a long time.”

He pressed a handkerchief into her hand. Finest silk, of course, with the initials H.S monogrammed onto the corner. “Is it your daughter?”

She shook her head. “She's fine. Only just, though. I hid her. But her husband is dead. And so is mine.” Her speech was disjointed, broken by sobs.

“Yes, I was very sorry to hear that,” Slughorn said. “He was a very talented Potion-maker, I have to say. I heard he set up his own business as a potioneer?”

“You never visited his shop, though,” Andromeda said bitterly. “Would have created too much tension with your rich pureblood friends?” Andromeda pressed the handkerchief to the corners of her eyes, finally managing to stem the flow of her tears. For now.

“Come now, Andromeda,” Slughorn said. “I'm a Potions master myself. Anything I need, I make.”

“It was an apothecary as well,” Andromeda snarled, her misery turning to bitter anger. She knew Slughorn didn't deserve the brunt of her anger, not really, but he was the closest target she had right now. “Or are you so brilliant you don't even need ingredients?”

Slughorn gave no response to that, silently reaching for her shoulder. “What can I do to help, my dear?” he asked.

“Nothing. Not unless you can raise the dead,” Andromeda answered bitterly. “I’m just thankful that I came when I did, or-“ her voice broke, and her remaining words were a murmur. “I’d have lost- Nymphadora-“

Slughorn patted her shoulder awkwardly. It was rare to see the genial Professor so lost for words. The silence was uncomfortable, but he clearly didn’t feel able to leave her. Andromeda would have preferred to have been left to herself, to cry freely, but the presence of another made her force back her tears. However, even though her eyes were dry she avoided eye contact with Slughorn, looking across the Entrance Hall determinedly, and so it was Slughorn who first saw the figure approaching down the staircase behind them.

“Mrs Malfoy!” he exclaimed, respectful yet wary. 

Andromeda whipped her head around, catching Slughorn’s anxious glance between the pair of them before focusing all her attention on her sister. “What do you think you are doing, Narcissa?” Andromeda spat venomously.

Her sister looked awful… well, comparatively awful. Narcissa had always been the pretty one, and there were still traces of her looks there, but there were shadows under her eyes, her hair was in disarray and she was without makeup, an unprecedented sight in public since Narcissa had been about thirteen. Glancing beyond her, Andromeda saw Lucius and Draco, standing watchfully behind her a little distance away. Lucius’ fingers clutched at his side, as though holding a non-existent wand. Both of them looked similarly dishevelled.

“Andy-“

“Don’t you dare call me that.”

Narcissa’s posture straightened at that, and her expression, which had been more open than usual, resumed its usual icy quality. “Mrs Tonks.” 

She curtsied, a gesture Andromeda did not deign to return.

“Your daughter, Nymphadora. Is she well?”

Andromeda debated with herself for a moment over whether to even answer. “If by ‘well’ you mean alive and relatively uninjured, then yes. If you are talking about her mental state, her husband was just murdered, so very far from well.”

Narcissa nodded stiffly and made no further comment on Nymphadora. However, she did not appear to be finished with the conversation, a fact that irritated Andromeda.

“If there’s nothing else, Narcissa, you can leave.”

Narcissa shook her head. “No, there is something else, Mrs Tonks. Your husband-“

“He’s ‘my husband’ now you’ve lost, is he? That’s not what you normally call him.”

Narcissa ignored her. “Your husband was announced to be dead.”

“If that’s your way of apologising that your filthy Death Eater friends murdered him, Narcissa, I will hex you into oblivion.”

“He might not be.”

“Murdered? Are you about to try and convince me he died by accident? Because it was still the fault of your husband and his friends that he was on the run in the first place.”

“He might not be dead. You need to look for him,” Narcissa said simply. “Good morning,” she added with another curtsey, the formal pureblood manner of closing a conversation.  
Andromeda was stunned for a moment, unable to respond. “What?” She croaked eventually.

Narcissa half-turned on her way back to her husband and son. “He might not be dead,” she repeated.

Andromeda stared at Narcissa’s retreating back, stunned. When she’d first heard the news she’d convinced herself that Potterwatch must be wrong, that they couldn’t possibly have accurate information. Her sister-in-law, a psychologist, had talked about stages of grief once, years ago, at some family gathering, and Andromeda could remember her saying that often the first reaction was denial. She’d squashed the hope eventually, realising it was just a wild wish, but now she felt it start to glimmer again inside her, like the last glowing ember of a fire. Collecting herself, Andromeda managed to call: “Narcissa!” just as her sister reached Lucius and Draco again.

Andromeda took a few hurried steps to catch up. “You’d better not be messing around, Narcissa.”

Her sister shook her head. “No. Nothing is certain. All I know is that the death report was based on false information.”

“What about the other deaths, Mrs Malfoy?” Slughorn had also reached them. 

“I have no reason to believe those to be inaccurate. I just know Mr Tonks’ was. It doesn’t make it certain he survived.” Narcissa looked at Andromeda. “But I do believe it to be quite likely.”

Andromeda’s heart rate seemed to double in a single second. She tried to stay calm, unwilling to show too much emotion in front of her sister, but her voice cracked as she asked: “Why? How do you know?”

Narcissa shook her head again. “That’s all you need to know, Andromeda.”

Andromeda stared at her for a few seconds. Her sister really was insufferable. However, as Narcissa began again to turn away, Andromeda drew her wand. 

“You will tell me, even if I have to Cruciate it out of you, do you understand?” Andromeda managed to choke out, raising her wand.

“Threaten my wife again, Andromeda, and I will make you pay.” Lucius spoke for the first time, moving to position himself between the two sisters, but Narcissa laid a hand on her husband’s arm. They glanced at each other, and he moved aside.

“You wouldn’t really do that, Andy,” Narcissa said softly. “Your own sister?”

Andromeda gave a bitter smile. “You really think you can claim to be my sister any more, Narcissa? I note it’s only when it suits you. I have just lost my son-in-law, I nearly lost my daughter and I thought for months that I had lost my husband, and I may still have lost him. I want to know what happened, and you will tell me.”

“Mrs Tonks-“ Slughorn began, reaching out a hand for her arm. 

“Don’t touch me,” Andromeda responded, without taking her eyes off Narcissa, who was looking steadily back at her.

When it seemed that the tension in their gazes would reach breaking point, Narcissa sighed and looked away. “Very well. A group of Snatchers came across your husband with Dean Thomas, Dirk Cresswell and two goblins. From what I understand, the two adults and one of the goblins fought them to give the boy time to run away with the other goblin. Mr Cresswell and the goblin were killed straight away, but they captured Mr Tonks, because-“ 

Narcissa cut herself off, but Andromeda could guess the reason, and it was a single word: Bellatrix. Ted’s death was one her sister would have wanted to handle personally.

“Mr Tonks escaped them before they could bring him…” Narcissa hesitated again and steeled herself. “Bring him to the manor. The group had been known to be travelling together, and they had to report the deaths of Dirk and the goblin. The Snatchers were a little bit nervous about telling Bellatrix he had escaped. They asked me to tell her. I pointed out that that would only delay her wrath and thereby make it worse, and suggested an alternative course: that they reported his death to her along with the others, and tried to make good their mistake as soon as they could. I asked them to report to me once they had done so. They never did.”

“Narcissa!” Lucius exclaimed in shock. Clearly, he hadn’t known. “You- if He had found out that you-“

“He didn’t,” Narcissa said simply, taking her husband’s hand.

Andromeda had listened in stunned silence to this exchange, but found her voice again. “You told them to try and kill my husband.”

“Andromeda, think,” Narcissa said impatiently. “If they had told Bellatrix he’d escaped I’m certain she would have tried to find him herself. I judged that he would not only have a better death if the Snatchers killed him than whatever Bella had in store, he probably had a much better chance of evading them than he did Bellatrix. He’d escaped them once, after all. And, as they never reported his death to me, it’s very possible he was successful in doing so for the rest of the war. As I said before, all you really need to concern yourself with is that he may well be alive and you need to look for him.” With that, Narcissa turned on her heel and walked determinedly away, her husband and son following in her wake.

Andromeda sank down onto a step again, trying to process what she had just heard, moderate and limit her hope, and decide whether she should tell Nymphadora. She judged not: it was too cruel to raise hopes in her daughter that might only be dashed again, especially when she was already grieving so heavily. 

“I’ll speak to someone,” Slughorn said. “I’ll see if they can put announcements out on Potterwatch and in the Daily Prophet that the war is over, and to encourage those on the run to arrive here. I know one already went out at the start of the battle: it’s possible your husband already heard it, but if not he will hopefully hear one of these. Do you have any idea where he might have gone?”

Andromeda shook her head slowly. “He said he was going to keep moving, that’s all he told me.”

Slughorn squeezed her shoulder. “I’ll go and do it now.”

Andromeda nodded, standing herself. “I must see my daughter,” she said, turning away.


	3. Chapter 3

Nymphadora stayed huddled against the wall where her mother had left her, cradling her husband’s body in her arms. Time seemed to have lost all meaning, and she was unaware of the cold of the wall against her back and the hot tears spilling down her cheeks. In this state, it was perhaps unsurprising that she failed to hear her mother’s soft footsteps and so was unaware of her approach until Andromeda was right beside her.

“Nymphadora, darling, it’s over. We’ve won.”

Nymphadora nodded distractedly as Andromeda slipped an arm around her shoulders. They sat in silence for a long time, looking down at Remus’ face. They said the dead always looked peaceful, but Nymphadora didn’t see that. If anything, he looked more worn and anxious than he had in life, with the determined, kind personality that had always shone through the hardship missing. Their marriage had been a tiny affair, only her parents and a couple of members of the Order present as witnesses and guards. This wasn’t because of a lack of guests who’d be willing to come: all Dora’s Muggle family would have loved to attend the wedding, but it just wasn’t safe. Her aunt Lizzie was the only member of her family who’d even met Remus, and that was by accident and before they were dating. Nymphadora had always hoped they’d meet him after the war, have a dinner as a sort of replacement for the wedding reception she’d never had. And now…

Andromeda was squeezing her shoulder. “We should move. We… we can’t keep Remus’ body here.”

Nymphadora nodded and allowed herself to be guided to her feet. “You’re right.” She raised her wand to levitate Remus’ body again and followed her mother slowly down the narrow corridor and out onto the main one. Pieces of the banister above the staircase to the Entrance Hall were lying, smashed, in their way, and the already complicated business of avoiding the trick steps down the great staircase was made yet more difficult by the fact that many other steps were broken or missing, too. At one point Nymphadora and Andromeda had to jump a gap three steps wide. However, they eventually reached the Entrance Hall and turned towards the Great Hall. The heavy door, which was standing open, was leaning slightly, its upper hinge damaged, and glass crunched beneath Nymphadora’s feet as she walked through the Entrance Hall. Eventually, she reached the end of the line of dead that had been placed there, and allowed Remus’ body to drift slowly to the ground. She sank to her knees beside him and buried her head against his now cold and lifeless neck. She felt her mother sit down gracefully beside her and put a hand on her back, rubbing it slowly in circles.

Nymphadora could hear that she was by far not the only person sobbing. The room was full of others, mourning their dead too, but right now she could not bring herself to care about anyone else, not even her own mother, although she knew Remus’ death and her own grief must be pouring fresh salt in the wound of her father’s death. It was for her, too. Her mother was wonderful and Nymphadora wouldn’t swap her for the world, but she’d always felt closer to her father, he had an approachability her mother lacked. Although right now, she was a little glad of her mother’s calm silence, which gave her the space to deal with her grief herself. Her father would have tried to fill the silence with comforting words, words about how great and brave a man Remus was, and Dora wasn’t ready to hear her husband referred to in the past tense. 

Nymphadora wasn’t sure how long she stayed there. Long enough for the sun to reach its midday height and then lengthen the shadows again. Clearly long enough for Harry Potter to get away from his crowds of admirers, rest, and then wake up again, as eventually Nymphadora heard his voice calling her name.

“Tonks?”

She turned wearily to see the Boy Who Lived a few metres away from her.  
“Wotcher, Harry,” she said tiredly, her voice tight. “Guess I should say congratulations.”

“Tonks, I’m so sorry,” Harry said.

Nymphadora could see tears in the boy’s eyes. 

“About Remus… I’m so sorry.” 

Nymphadora shook her head. “Wasn’t your fault, Harry. You’ve stopped a hell of a lot more people dying.” She struggled to make her tone sound less flat and uncaring for the next question. “Who else did we lose?”

Harry swallowed, hard. “Fred Weasley.”

Nymphadora hadn’t realised it was possible to feel any more miserable than she already did. “No!” she exclaimed. Fred had been a great person: she’d always appreciated his and George’s ability to make anything funny, even when Voldemort had been taking over half the wizarding world. “How’s George? And the rest of the family?”

“Pretty bad. That’s where Ron and Hermione are, or they’d be here, too.” Harry began to list the rest of the names of the dead. Nymphadora tried to feel for each of them, but unless they were personally known to her it was difficult. She had few reserves of grief left. Funny, you wouldn’t think that grief was a finite quantity, but it clearly was.

“Er, and…” he hesitated, glancing anxiously across at her mother. “Mrs Tonks, I’m afraid your sister was- she didn’t-“

Andromeda gave a bitter laugh. “If I were you, Mr Potter, I would be more ‘afraid’ if she had survived.”

“Which sister?” Nymphadora asked, even though she could guess the answer. She hadn’t really asked her mother much about her family, but even she knew Andromeda would never speak that callously about Mrs Malfoy.

“Bellatrix,” Andromeda answered, before Harry could speak. “I’ve seen Narcissa, she’s alive.”

Harry swallowed. “About that, Mrs Tonks, er, Professor Slughorn came to see me.”

Well, that made no sense. Nymphadora forced herself to focus on the two of them, part of her glad of the distraction. “What?”

“I spoke to Kingsley just now. He’s going to put out an announcement. For your husband.”

Nymphadora swallowed hard at the mention of her father. “You mean for a funeral or something?” 

Andromeda began to speak, but too late, as Harry said: “No, to see if he’s still alive.”

“The hell?” Nymphadora exclaimed disjointedly. “He can’t be. Potterwatch got their information direct from the Ministry, Remus-“ she paused to force back her tears “Remus told me. It came from the official lists, the ones they had to use to register deaths.”

“He probably is still…. Still dead, Nymphadora,” Andromeda said softly, her voice raspy with unshed tears. “But I was informed there was a possibility that the death report was wrong. I didn’t want to get your hopes up, darling, but I have to try.”

Nymphadora wasn’t certain what she felt. Hope was there, certainly, but so was the fear that it would all come to nothing. And even, unforgivably in her opinion, jealousy. After all, there was no chance that Remus’ death was a mistake, that Remus would be coming back to her. Nymphadora decided to focus on puzzlement. She could at least resolve that emotion.

“How could the death report be wrong?” she asked, directing her question at Harry.

However, it was Andromeda who answered. “Because Mrs Malfoy has been on more sides of this war than she owns pairs of shoes. And she has a lot of shoes.”

“Yeah, Mum, you’re doing that thing again. The thing where it isn’t actually an answer, it just sounds like one.”

Andromeda sighed. “It really isn’t my information to divulge, Nymphadora.”

“You’ve started now though, you may as well finish,” Dora pointed out.

“No, darling,” Andromeda said, softly but firmly. “That’s all you need to know.”

Dora gave up, knowing she would get nothing else out of her mother. She slowly got to her feet, looking reluctantly at Remus’ body as she did so. Part of her wanted nothing more than to lie on the floor sobbing for the rest of the day… maybe even the rest of her life, but something to do would probably help, and finding her father was definitely something she needed to do.

“I’m going to go and look for him, Mum.”

“You can’t possibly do that. Even I’ve no idea where he is.”

“I can try though. It would give me something to do.” 

“I don’t think you’re in any condition to be traipsing through countryside. And what if Potterwatch was right all along, and you find…” Andromeda broke off, her voice tight.

Dora reached to place a hand on her mother’s shoulder, swallowing hard herself. The thought of finding her father’s body after what had happened to Remus today… Dora had to admit her mother was right, it would be too much. She glanced across at Harry, who had half-lifted his hand as if to comfort her mother, then seemingly lost his nerve. Probably Andromeda’s resemblance to her sister was at work again there, although Andromeda herself gave off an aloof air that tended to discourage people from getting too informal around her.

“If your father is alive, Nymphadora, he will find us.”


	4. Chapter 4

Andromeda’s back ached from sitting on the floor, a sign of age that she had no energy to care about now. Nymphadora seemed to have emptied her tear ducts, and was sitting staring at Remus’ face with a blank expression, her fingers still tightly curled around his. Andromeda gave her daughter’s shoulders another squeeze, forcing back her own tears.

“You should try to eat something soon, N- Dora,” she said softly, deciding for once not to antagonize her daughter by using her given name.

“You must really be feeling sorry for me, Mum,” Nymphadora responded, but slowly after a long pause, as though every word cost a thousand Galleons. “You’ve never called me Dora before.”

“Come on, you must eat. We’ve been here nearly an entire day.”

“I can’t,” Nymphadora muttered. “Although I need the bathroom.”

Andromeda ran a hand across her daughter’s hair, currently its natural mousy-brown. It would be that colour for a very long time: Andromeda couldn’t see Nymphadora regaining her metamorphosing abilities any time soon.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

Nymphadora shook her head. “No, stay here. I don’t want Remus to be on his own.” She sighed. “That’s really silly, isn’t it?”

Andromeda shook her head slowly. “No it isn’t.” She didn’t let the rest of her thoughts pass her lips: that she’d had nightmares, night after night, about Ted’s body lying broken, mutilated and alone. They’d had a small funeral for him, but it had felt strange without his body, failing to give the closure and comfort it was supposed to. She’d have to speak to Nymphadora soon about funeral arrangements, she supposed. Remus had very few possessions, which would make things easier in a way, although the distraction of having to sort out a large estate could sometimes help with grief, she’d heard.

Andromeda heard footsteps behind her, and slowly turned her head, wondering idly who it might be. It was too soon to be Nymphadora returning. Her eyes fell on two of the three heroes of the hour: Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, who she recognised from the Prophet’s ‘Wanted’ advertisements over the last year.

“Mr Weasley, Miss Granger,” she said tiredly, with a nod of her head. “I was so sorry to hear of the loss of your brother, Mr Weasley.”

Ronald looked away from her, swallowing hard. Miss Granger answered instead.

“Thanks, Mrs Tonks. We were all really sorry to lose Professor Lupin, too. And Mr Tonks, as well.”

“If he is actually dead,” Ronald muttered.

“Ron!” Hermione Granger exclaimed. “I’m so sorry, Mrs Tonks… Harry told us that maybe…”

Andromeda nodded. “I understand. Who else has Mr Potter told?”

“Just us, and a few people who need to know, like Kingsley and some Aurors, so they can go and look for him.”

Andromeda nodded. “I’d appreciate it if he doesn’t spread it any further than that, if at all possible. I’d rather half the wizarding world weren’t asking about it.”

Miss Granger nodded. “I’ll tell him.” She looked past Andromeda then, towards Remus’ body. “Would you mind awfully if we paid our respects, Mrs Tonks?” she asked. “Professor Lupin was one of my favourite teachers.”

Andromeda nodded. “Of course. I can’t imagine Nymphadora will mind, either.”

The two of them hesitantly approached Remus’ body and sat beside him.

“He told me a lot about the two of you,” Andromeda said, recalling a conversation she’d had over dinner, shortly after Remus and Nymphadora had married. “He told me you were the cleverest student he’d taught, Miss Granger, and Mr Weasley, that you were one of the bravest people he knew.”

Ronald finally looked up at her, frowning. “Really?”

Hermione gave him an exasperated look. “Why is that so hard to believe?”

“I assure you he did say that, Mr Weasley, and as Remus knew a lot of very brave people, being one himself, I’d be very flattered by that description if I were you. He also complimented your sense of humour.”

There was silence for a few moments. “Erm, Mrs Tonks,” Hermione began, sounding very nervous. “I- I don’t know whether to say this or not, but, um, I- I’m-sorry-for-your-other-loss.” The final words were delivered in such a rush that Andromeda struggled to make sense of them.

“Other loss?”

Hermione swallowed and looked away. “Your sister.”

Oh. Andromeda sat in stunned silence for a moment, then began to laugh. “Bellatrix? Well, the last time I saw Bella she was torturing my daughter and about to kill her, so I’m not sorry.”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have-“

“No, don’t apologise. It was very kind of you.”

Hermione looked closely at her, as though gauging her potential response to what she said next. “There’s something else, Mrs Tonks. I, er, I sort of have her wand.”

Andromeda looked down as Hermione drew out Bellatrix’s long, unadorned walnut wand, the same one she recognised from childhood. “You may as well keep it, Miss Granger, until you get one of your own.”

“Actually, they returned mine earlier today. And please, call me Hermione.”

“Well, Bella was definitely using a wand yesterday, and it wasn’t that one, so she must have had another one made. If you don’t want to snap it in half and put it on the fire, though heaven knows that’s not a bad idea, I’d suggest you give it to Narcissa. I- I don’t even feel I can touch it.”

Hermione swallowed, looking a little anxious, but nodded. “I’ll do that, then, Mrs Tonks.”

“Andromeda. Or Meda, if that’s too much of a mouthful for you.”

Hermione nodded distractedly, her eyes wandering over to the other side of the hall. Following her gaze, Andromeda noted three blond heads huddled together at the end of the Slytherin table. Hermione stood up, brushing down her robes. 

“You doing it now?” Ronald asked, starting to stand himself.

“Yes,” Hermione said. “I want to get it over with.” She gave Ronald an appraising look. “If you’re coming with me, you are going to be polite, aren’t you?”

“Only if they are,” Ron said, looking mutinous. “If they call you a You-Know-What then I’m going to hex them.”

“You do remember that the last time you tried that you were throwing up slugs for the rest of the afternoon?” 

Ronald glared at her. “Only because my wand was broken.”

“It was lovely to meet you, Andromeda,” Hermione said, ignoring Ron. “I’m just sorry it had to be in these circumstances.”

Andromeda nodded. “I agree. And, if you have time, I hope we can meet again. I think this slug story is something I have to hear.” She paused. “Also, the Malfoys will be disturbingly nice to you, I can promise you that. Of course, it’s all for their own gain, but they won’t be calling you any names today, they wouldn’t dare.”

Andromeda let her eyes follow Ronald and Hermione as they crossed the hall and approached the table where the Malfoy family were sitting. She almost smiled when she saw Lucius and Draco’s heads turn just slightly towards Narcissa, and noted that Narcissa was the first to stand and greet the two teenagers, quickly followed by her husband and son. No change there, then. The rest of the world might think that Narcissa was a pretty bauble for Lucius’ arm, but Andromeda knew that, whatever his faults, Lucius would have followed his wife into hell itself. 

Her thoughts were disturbed by Nymphadora returning with rapid, determined strides. 

“Mum, I’ve changed my mind,” she said, without preamble or greeting, though her voice became a little more uncertain as she glanced at Remus.

“About?”

“I want to go and look for Dad.”

Andromeda was silent for a few moments. She still didn’t think it was a good idea, that Dora was still far too emotionally fragile, but she also knew that there was no arguing with her daughter once she’d made up her mind. Andromeda had tried many times in the past, starting when Dora had insisted on going to Muggle primary school at the age of five because her cousin Elsa, who was a year older, had already started there. Andromeda had tried to impress upon her daughter the seriousness of the problem that her as-yet uncontrolled Metamorphosing might present, but to no avail, so Dora had attended, aided by a number of hats and a much larger number of memory charms. By the time she was seven, though, Dora had learnt to control her talent. Andromeda had to admit that school had probably had some role in that, as she’d been forced to try and conceal it.

Andromeda tried anyway. “Nymphadora, I really don’t think that’s wise.”

“I’m doing it, Mum.”

Sighing, Andromeda acquiesced. “Fine. I know better than to argue with you in this mood, darling. But we need to talk first: should I- do you want me to take Remus’ body home? He can’t stay here forever.”

After a slight hesitation, Nymphadora nodded. “I want to take him, though. Then I’ll go out and look for Dad… I should be back tomorrow.”

Andromeda nodded, and walked with her daughter as she levitated her husband’s body to take him out of the grounds, where they would be able to Apparate. As they passed the Slytherin table, much to Andromeda’s surprise, Narcissa and her family got to their feet in a traditional gesture of respect to the dead. Nymphadora turned to glare at them.

“Shouldn’t you lot be arrested by now?” she snapped.

Lucius made a small movement forward and opened his mouth, but stopped at a slight raise of Narcissa’s hand. 

“Our condolences for your loss, Mrs Lupin,” Narcissa said calmly.

“Oh, piss off,” Dora snapped, her hair turning suddenly red with anger. 

“Nymphadora, language.”

“Oh, come on Mum, it’s the Malfoys for fu-“

“Nymphadora.”

“Fine, it’s the Malfoys for heaven’s sake.”

Andromeda nodded. “Better.”

“You can get lost!” Nymphadora had turned back to her aunt. “You don’t give a toss that he’s dead.”

“How dare you speak to my wife like that, you half-bl-“

“Lucius.” Narcissa’s voice was quiet, but it stopped her husband in his tracks. “Believe me, Nymphadora-“

“Don’t call me Nymphadora.”

“Mrs Lupin… believe me, I am genuinely sorry for your pain.”

“Yeah, right,” Nymphadora snorted. “Come on, Mum,” she added, turning away from Narcissa and beginning to walk towards the Entrance Hall.

Andromeda, however, lingered a few moments longer, struggling to form words. “If you do genuinely mean that, Narcissa, then I- thank you.”

Narcissa lowered her head slightly, her long blonde hair swinging forwards to shield her face. Almost inaudibly, she whispered: “Yes, Andy. I meant it.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry everyone for the length of time it's taken me to update this! The story is further ahead on fanfiction.net at the moment if you're desperate to catch up with it on there, but I will try and add the chapters I have on there on here over the next few weeks too :)

A few nights later it rained, seemingly endlessly. The woodland floor turned damp, then positively soggy, with puddles collecting in the footprints made by deer and foxes, and one man. The latter was currently inside a tent, instincts from years of Muggle camping making him try his best to avoid touching the sides lest the rain seep through, but his natural clumsiness meaning he’d already done so three times in the last five minutes as he set out his sleeping bag. Ted Tonks thanked heaven for the existence of Drying Charms, as in addition to the damp sneaking through the patches of canvas he’d bumped into, he was soaking wet from walking around and around his campsite casting protective charms. 

“Adsicco,” Ted muttered yet again, pointing his wand at another patch of wet tent as he settled into his sleeping bag and reached for the battered old radio he relied on to pick up Potterwatch, his main link to the outside world. As he began to fiddle with the dials to find the right frequency, he surveyed the patch of canvas critically. ‘Dromeda would probably do a better job, he thought to himself, fighting down a fresh wave of pain at the thought of his wife. 

When the Snatchers had found him, Ted had been certain he’d never see his wife and daughter again. Even when he managed to escape, Ted was sure a more senior Death Eater would be sent after him. He’d hoped it wouldn’t be Bellatrix: not only was her cruelty in torture legendary, more importantly it would have hurt ‘Dromeda so badly if she’d ever found out that her own sister was responsible for her husband’s death. While Ted hoped someone other than Bellatrix would kill him, he knew it was unlikely: the Snatchers had mentioned orders that he should be brought straight to her. He’d thought it was only a matter of time before he came face-to-face with her, but he was still waiting.

Ted had heard the announcement of his own death on Potterwatch, with mixed feelings. He hoped the Death Eaters also believed he was dead, then they might stop hunting him… but it meant, too, that Andromeda and Dora would be grieving, a thought Ted simply couldn’t bear. He’d entertained the idea of going to them, letting them know he was alive, but it was simply too dangerous. He only seemed to miss them more with time: Dora’s bright hair and bouncy demeanour; Andromeda’s elegant grace and biting wit. 

Eventually, the radio crackled into life, and Ted tapped it with his wand, muttering the code that had been given out last week for Potterwatch. 

“…this is ‘River’, better known as Lee Jordan,” a by now familiar voice came from the radio, sounding much more cheerful than he had for the last few episodes.

Ted sat up suddenly, startled. Full names? Potterwatch never gave out the full names of its presenters, for obvious reasons.

“For those of you that haven’t heard, it’s my privilege to announce that Voldemort is dead, and his Death Eaters have been defeated. Harry Potter really was the ‘Chosen One’, I guess.”

“More just lucky, Lee,” came a voice that Ted thought he recognised.

“So, for those of you who don’t know their voices, we also welcome Harry Potter and Hermione Granger to the show.”

“Good evening, everyone,” came a girl’s quiet voice.

While Harry and Hermione had been talking, Ted had struggled back out of his sleeping bag and to his feet, and was currently staring at the radio in shock. The war was over? Ted almost started to pack up the tent right away to head home, then hesitated. What if this was some Death Eater trap? Well, if they had Harry Potter it was probably all over anyway, he supposed, but who would really know what Harry’s voice sounded like? Ted was probably in one of the better positions to do that, having actually met the boy, but he couldn’t reliably decide if it was his voice or not, especially over a crackly radio. The Death Eaters could easily impersonate him, particularly with a few spells.

“So, the main point of today’s show is to let everyone on the run know it’s safe to come home. We know you won’t want to just take our word for it, though: after all, I could be You-Know-Who in disguise,” Lee Jordan said.

“Exactly,” Hermione Granger said. “So Harry and I have been speaking to the families of those on the run, where we can, and each of them has given a few pieces of information that the Death Eaters wouldn’t know. We realise this isn’t a hundred percent foolproof, but it’s the best method we could come up with, and hopefully with a few additional checks most of you on the run will feel it’s safe.”

Well, that didn’t apply to him. Ted knew he’d been announced as dead, and ‘Dromeda would have no reason to doubt that. But it did seem genuine… maybe if he went home rather than to Hogwarts or the Ministry, and questioned ‘Dromeda and Dora to make sure it was really them. If Hermione, Lee and Harry were really telling the truth, Ted couldn’t leave his wife grieving for a minute longer than necessary.

Given these thoughts, it was not entirely surprising that Ted jumped a foot in the air upon hearing his name, nearly bringing the whole tent down on his head.

“Firstly, Ted Tonks. Mr Tonks… we’re not even sure if you’re alive or not. You might have heard Potterwatch announce your… your death, but we’ve had information since that that announcement is likely to have been inaccurate.”

“Unfortunately, just specifically that bit of information,” Lee interrupted. “So any relatives of others whose deaths were announced on the programme… I’m sorry, but at the moment we’ve no reason to think we were wrong. I wish we were.”

“Your wife and daughter both survived the war without injury, and are desperate to know if you’re alive,” Hermione continued. “They both gave us information they said Death Eaters would be unlikely to know. Mrs Tonks told me that the first dance at your wedding was to ‘Something’ by The Beatles, and that the first time she tasted Baileys she didn’t realise it was alcoholic. Your daughter tells us that you let her draw on the wall aged five when you were redecorating the living room, and that behind the paint to the left of the door to the kitchen there’s an illustration of the Hopping Pot from ‘The Wizard and the Hopping Pot’ eating the two Ugly Sisters from ‘Cinderella’.” Hermione paused. “We’d like to apologise for the private nature of some of the details we’ll be reading out, but we just didn’t see another way of doing this that would convince all those on the run that it’s safe to return.”

Ted hadn’t moved, still staring at the radio in shock. So it really was over… it was over! He could go home!

Shaking his head to clear it, Ted began to jam all his things willy-nilly into his backpack, using both magic and his hands to get it done as fast as possible. Running outside once he was done, he waved his wand a little too enthusiastically, making the pegs holding the tent down fly off in all directions into the forest.

“Bugger… Accio pegs,” he muttered. This time, they came back so fast that they whacked into Ted’s body in fifteen different places before falling on to the floor, but he’d never cared about pain less in his life.

Gathering them up, Ted shoved them and the soaking wet tent into the backpack too, picked up his wand and released the wards surrounding his campsite for the last time. Then, turning on the spot, he disappeared.


	6. Chapter 6

Two days before Ted heard the Potterwatch announcement, Andromeda woke up to a silent house. Nymphadora had not yet returned from searching for her father, and Andromeda had not yet been to fetch Teddy from her mother-in-law. She and Nymphadora had both been too exhausted and emotionally drained that night to give the baby what he needed, and Andromeda knew he’d be well looked after by Eileen Tonks. She had telephoned, though, when they’d arrived from Hogwarts, so Eileen would be expecting her sometime today.

Tying a dressing gown on over her nightdress, Andromeda walked through to the kitchen and put the kettle on, leaning on the kitchen counter as she looked out into the summer garden, busy with insects and birds even at this early hour. That only made the house seem more silent, however, so Andromeda busied herself with attempting to make toast. ‘Attempting’ being the operative word: Andromeda usually only cooked once a year, breakfast on Ted’s birthday, and it was generally barely edible. Dora wasn’t much better but could make food that was tolerable, Remus was a decent cook and Ted was amazing at it, so Andromeda didn’t often have to feed herself. After burning the sixth piece of toast to an inedible crisp, Andromeda gave up and took her tea into the bathroom to get ready to go and collect Teddy. Maybe she’d pick up a sandwich at a Muggle supermarket on the way back.

Andromeda apparated with a soft ‘pop’ in the middle of a small copse of trees in a park just down the road from her mother-in-law’s house. The sun was already hot, though it was not yet mid-morning, and Andromeda felt warm after the short walk down the street to the front door. She felt the slight tingle of magic as she passed through the wards that Ted had set on every Muggle dwelling in the street, though Eileen’s house was additionally protected by a Fidelius charm, of which Andromeda was Secret-Keeper. Ted’s much greater risk of being killed in the war meant she was the obvious choice, as the charm was greatly weakened by being diluted between several people following the Secret-Keeper’s death.

Andromeda’s heels clipped noisily as she walked up the short stone path through the neatly maintained front garden. This was the only place Eileen grew flowers, the back garden being turned over to vegetables and fruit for the kitchen. Andromeda admired her mother in law’s patience, weeding all that without magic, despite the fact that she was in her seventies. Reaching the cheerful yellow door, Andromeda pressed the bell and waited.

A few moments later, it opened. Eileen stood there, blocking the doorway. 

“Hello, Meda, dear. It’s lovely to see you, but I have to check who you are,” she said pleasantly. “What was the first film you watched with us all, dear?”

“The Sound of Music,” Andromeda replied. “I suppose I may as well check you too.” She spent a moment thinking of a suitable question, then decided to stick with the theme. “Well, seeing as we’re talking about The Sound of Music, what is ‘fa’?”

“A long long way to run,” Eileen responded instantly, unable to resist singing the line rather than just saying it. She stepped back from the doorway. “Come in, love. Teddy’s in the living room. I wasn’t going to bring him to the door until I was sure it was you.”

Andromeda stepped through the door into the small hallway and followed Eileen into the living room, which was made cozy by blankets and cushion covers handmade by Ted’s youngest sister Katherine. Most available surfaces were covered in photographs of family and friends or souvenirs from holidays and days out, and while the room was clean, it was anything but tidy. Eileen resembled her son in that way.

Eileen moved a pile of books off the armchair near the fireplace. “Sit down, love. Teddy’s asleep,” she added, bending over the pram near the sofa. “Have you seen, his hair changes colours as he dreams?”

Andromeda nodded. “Like Nymphadora’s.”

Eileen sighed. “Poor Dora. She and Remus were just getting settled, weren’t they? The world’s just not fair sometimes.”

Andromeda curled her lip. “It was Antonin Dolohov. Who did it. My mother suggested him as an appropriate suitor at one point, before my parents settled on Rabastan Lestrange.”

“Well, you must be crazy, my dear,” Eileen said with a slight smile. “To refuse such fine, kind men in favour of my Ted.”

Her voice cracked a little at her son’s name, making Andromeda’s stomach twist with guilt, but Andromeda was determined not to tell her that Ted might still be alive until it was certain. It was too cruel to torment a mother with hope like that.

Turning more serious, Eileen added: “it must be very hard for you, Andromeda. It’s always so much easier to deal with evil when you can just dismiss its perpetrators as inhuman monsters. Much more difficult when you know them as people.”

“Oh, I have no problem with the inhuman monster thing for Dolohov or Lestrange. Anyway, all Dolohov did was try and feel me up at dances. It was disgusting.”

Eileen shuddered and wrinkled her nose. “Well, now we’ve thoroughly put ourselves off any food, would you like some breakfast?”

Andromeda smiled. “What makes you think I haven’t already had it?”

“The famous Black anti-cooking gene, dear.” Eileen chuckled. “Why, am I wrong?”

“No,” Andromeda admitted. “I burnt six pieces of toast this morning.”

“The toaster is easier than magic, I’ve heard.”

“For the last three I used the toaster.”

Eileen burst out laughing. “Oh, I’m sorry, dear. But how can anyone burn toast using a toaster?”

“The famous Black anti-cooking gene, apparently.”

Eileen smiled. “Well, I think the defeat of He-Who-Is-A-Complete-Prat deserves a bacon sandwich.”

Andromeda raised her eyebrows at the name. “Really, Eileen?”

“Well, since the Taboo I’ve had to be inventive, dear. Bacon or sausages? Or both?”

“Mm, bacon, please. Can I help?”

“Sorry, dear, I am quite attached to my kitchen, I’d rather it remain standing. You can come through and chat to me, though. Just don’t touch the toaster.”

Smiling, Andromeda followed her mother-in-law through to the kitchen. Unlike the rest of the house, the kitchen was tidy and mostly clear of knick-knacks: Andromeda knew from what Ted had said that cooking in a cluttered kitchen was a frustrating process. The main decoration came from a few postcards sat on the windowsill alongside some pots of herbs, and a noticeboard covered in photos. Eileen had never quite mastered the art of taking the older photos down to make room for new, so they were pinned higgledy-piggledy over each other and blue-tacked to the orange tiled wall around the edge of the noticeboard. Andromeda smiled sadly at one of Ted tickling her mercilessly. She’d had a little too much wine at the time, or she’d never have let herself be photographed acting so inelegantly. Black upbringing could be a strong force.

Eileen pulled a stainless steel frying pan from a wooden shelf above the cooker and poured in a little oil, turning on the gas ring and moving the pan to sit over it. Crossing the kitchen, she took a packet of bacon from the fridge, and moved the butter and tomato ketchup from the cupboard to the kitchen table.

“Sit down, Meda,” she called, now grabbing a home-baked loaf of bread, chopping board and knife. “Would you like some tea, dear?”

“Yes please. I can make that,” Andromeda offered.

“Don’t be silly, love, you sit there and rest,” Eileen ordered. Having cut four perfectly straight slices from the loaf, Eileen picked up the kettle and went to fill it, before slipping the bacon into the hot oil. Eileen did not go in for low-fat methods of cooking.

“Where is Dora, anyway?” Eileen asked. “Did she just not feel up to coming? I can understand it, poor love.”

Andromeda shook her head. “She’s got some work to do. Auror stuff, you know. Trying to find those who are missing.”

Eileen shook her head fondly. “That’s our Dora. Always thinks of others before herself. You will make her take some time to grieve, though, Meda? I’m sure she’ll need it.” Barely even glancing away from Andromeda, Eileen pulled out a couple of mugs, dropped in teabags and filled them with hot water. Andromeda recognised the ‘World’s Best Mum’ mug Ted had bought his mother the year after he’d married Andromeda, with its characteristic line where Eileen had superglued on the handle when it broke. Ted had pointed out that he could repair it flawlessly with magic, but was met only with a dismissive “well, then it won’t look so well-loved, dear”.

Andromeda felt her eyes welling up, and blinked hard.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Eileen said, coming over to pull Andromeda into a hug. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think.”

Andromeda shook her head. “He’d like to think you still use it.”

Eileen squeezed her more tightly, waiting for a few minutes before responding. “It’s one of my favourites, although I don’t think it’s entirely accurate. I very much doubt I’m the world’s best Mum.”

“Yes, you are,” Andromeda said forcefully. “You’re better than mine.”

Eileen smiled. “In that case, you can get me a mug that says ‘Not the World’s Worst Mum’.”

“I don’t think Mother was the world’s worst. Aunt Walburga was definitely crazier. And crueller.”

“Crazier than the woman who tried to match-make you with this Dolohov bloke?”

“Oh, definitely. Aunt Walburga thought I should marry Coibin Nott when he became a widower, and he was twenty-five years my senior.”

Eileen shook her head as she returned to the frying pan, turning the bacon over again. “And they wonder why you ever wanted to get out of that society?”

“At least Dolohov bought me a diamond necklace.” Andromeda smirked. “That was a nice hundred Galleons. Sorted Ted and I out for most of the living room furniture and a TV.”

Eileen looked shocked. “You never brought it away with you and sold it?”

“I took all my jewellery,” Andromeda answered. “How do you think Ted and I saved up for a deposit so quickly?”

“Did he know?”

“Ted? Well, he knew I’d brought some money away with me, but he didn’t know exactly where it came from until after we’d bought everything with it.”

Eileen gave her head a despairing shake. “Ever the Slytherin. Did you sell all of it?”

“I kept a couple of things Narcissa and Bellatrix gave me, but I think I’m going to sell Bellatrix’s now. There’d be a lovely irony in putting it into a trust fund for Teddy.”

Eileen didn’t give the laugh Andromeda expected, instead tilting her head on one side. “Do you feel any grief for her?”

“Bellatrix tried to kill Nymphadora,” Andromeda said bitterly in response.

Eileen seemed unfazed by this news. “You know, that doesn’t actually answer the question.” She pulled out a plate. “Luckily for you, though, your sandwich is ready. But if you ever want to talk about it…”

“No, thank you, Eileen, I’ll be fine,” Andromeda said, her tone becoming suddenly haughtier.

Eileen sighed, and when she spoke her voice was quiet. “You need Ted. He’d have got you to open up in no time.”

“He doesn’t play fair,” Andromeda muttered. “He does that thing where he just looks at me until I start talking.”

Eileen didn’t comment on Andromeda’s use of the present tense. “Well, I always find crispy bacon makes everything better,” she said, sliding Andromeda’s plate and mug of tea in front of her. 

Andromeda took a sip of tea from her mug, which had a picture of a dinosaur and the words ‘Natural History Museum’. Andromeda remembered the trip: she’d joined Eileen and her sister-in-law Lizzie for the day in London. The two of them were staying for a few days, as the Tonks family were from Yorkshire and it would have hardly been worth travelling down for a single day, but of course Andromeda could Apparate. Ted had been working, so it had been just the three women together. Andromeda’d been full of questions about how the Muggles could know how old the dinosaur bones were, and Lizzie had made a not entirely successful attempt to explain carbon dating to someone who’d never even been taught about atoms. It had been a fun day though, and Andromeda smiled as she bit into her bacon sandwich, remembering it.

Her thoughts were broken by a cry from the living room. She began to get to her feet, but Eileen waved her back down. 

“Don’t worry, love, I’ll get him. I’ve got missed time to make up,” she added.

That was true. Andromeda and Ted had barely seen any of his Muggle family since Voldemort’s return, judging it to be too risky. It had been refreshing to see Eileen again. Andromeda was still grateful for the kind, non-judgmental welcome she’d received when she’d shown up on her mother-in-law’s doorstep, disowned and homeless. She’d felt incredibly awkward for about ten minutes, but Eileen’s easygoing manner and kindness had soon calmed her down. It had stood in sharp contrast to her own detached, cold family atmosphere.

Eileen returned with a squalling Teddy, interrupting Andromeda’s chain of thought. “Be a dear and heat up this milk, Meda,” she said, passing Andromeda a bottle. “You can do it faster than me, and this little man is hungry.”

Andromeda smiled slightly as she waved her wand, casting a simple heating charm to boil and sterilize the bottle, then a cooling one to bring it back down to body temperature. The only time Eileen would let Ted or Andromeda help her with magic was if it benefitted someone else, like healing Dora’s cousins’ scraped knees or heating a baby’s bottle. Once the bottle was ready, she passed it to Eileen, who shifted Teddy’s position and offered it to him with practiced ease.

“That’s better, isn’t it,” Eileen cooed adoringly at him.

Andromeda smiled. Most of the rest of the wizarding world might be nervous about the son of a werewolf, especially one linked by blood to people like Bellatrix, however remote that link might be. Yet it was clear Teddy would always have a home with this side of the family, and would receive the unconditional love that Andromeda had never found in her own upbringing.

Although maybe her family contained more of that than she’d thought. The idea came up suddenly in Andromeda’s head, but it was a strong one. True, what Narcissa had done had been very far from the raging row she was sure Ted would have given to anyone who had tried to hurt a sibling’s spouse. Well, his sister Kathryn’s first husband not included, as he’d hit his wife on a regular basis, and Ted had had to be physically restrained from hexing him. But in the situation Narcissa had ended up in, even her half-hearted attempt at defending her brother-in-law had undoubtedly been risky. Andromeda had been pushing it to the back of her mind, uncertain what to think, but occasionally it struggled to the surface.

“Penny for them?” Eileen asked quietly, looking concerned.

Andromeda shook her head. “It’s nothing. My sister.”

“Bellatrix?” Eileen asked gently.

Andromeda shook her head. “Narcissa.”

“She is alive, isn’t she? You mentioned Bellatrix but you never said…”

“Oh, her whole family are fine, although they’re facing criminal charges. Charges they’ll no doubt manage to wriggle out of, knowing them.”

“I’m afraid that’s the way of the world, dear. Money has a lot more influence than it should.”

Teddy interrupted the conversation by detaching his mouth from the bottle, his hair turning his favourite shade of pink. Eileen lifted him to her shoulder to burp him. Instantly his hair turned to Eileen’s silvery grey.

Eileen laughed. “Oh, I think we’ve made friends, lovely,” she said in sing-song tones. “Who’s a gorgeous boy, then?” Her tone turning more serious, she addressed Andromeda. “Is that what’s bothering you, your sister’s trial?”

“It’s nothing,” Andromeda repeated. She simply felt unable to talk about it, even to her mother-in-law, who always listened kindly and without judgement. She did not even feel sure about what her feelings were, let alone how to put them into words. “I’d better take Teddy home soon,” she added, as she waved her wand to clean her plate and put it back in the cupboard. “I want to be there when Nymphadora comes back.”

Eileen nodded slowly. “Of course. Well, when you want to talk, Andromeda, you know how to use the telephone. Or just pop round, I’m usually here.”

Andromeda had little intention of doing so, but her gratitude was sincere when she said: “Thank you, Mum.”


End file.
